by L M Lovett
I open up a side room and gasp, entering an enormous closet. There are suits everywhere, clothes neatly folded, and dozens of shoes. Everything smells like wealth and class. I linger in this room, pressing my nose against his suits, inhaling the smell of him. My core turns molten as the memories of him pleasuring me inundate me. The sweet ache of my body is almost too much to bear. I know I must wait for him.
I walk out of the closet and open another door and find myself in the dreamiest bathroom. There is an enormous shower and gigantic tub. Lustful thoughts descend open me as I realize that the shower has benches and the tub could easily fit two.
Outside, through the ceiling to floor windows, I can see the faint outline of the ocean and the rising moon.
There are soft fluffy towels stacked by shower. I decide to take a shower, though I regret washing the trace of David’s scorching touch from my skin. After some fumbling with the high tech controls, I end up taking the most decadent shower of my life.
I hesitantly place my toiletries on his bathroom counter, change into my pajamas, and then feel self conscious and then have to chuckle at my threadbare clothes. I’m wearing a raggedy oversized t-shirt and some old shorts. As much as I love wearing lingerie, I’m an oversized t-shirt kind of girl at night. His sheets are softer than I can imagine and I relax as I find his scent again.
Normally, I would be showering away the muck of my day and taking BART, a mode of transport where people are unfailingly crowded like sardines. I would spend familiar evenings in quiet and empty apartment and spend my entire night reading, daydreaming, and numbing myself on my phone.
Instead, I’m warm and cozy in my boss’s billionaire bed. My thoughts linger on the absurdity of this, on him, on my first sexual experience, but soon, all I can focus on is the sound of the ocean lulling me to sleep. Sleep claims me. I dream of him.
Twelve
David
It takes everything in me to let her go, to trust that Maribel wants this as much as I do. I’m inundated with thoughts and a fierce desire to control her in every possible way.
I’m still deciding if I should even let her go back to her apartment before moving her into mine, before I realize she’s said something and moved towards the door. I’m so deep in my brooding I don’t decipher what she said before her hand reaches for the door.
I act instinctively, drawing her close around me, breathing in her scent. She’s mine.
But I also know that a little freedom will go a long way. I want her so desperately and yet I put off making her mine.
I’m not one to delay or second guess myself. But this new exploration with Maribel feels more delicate and tenuous than negotiating a multi-billion-dollar merger.
I need to dominate and possess Maribel like I need air and water. But I’m not ready to grapple with the fallout of that need.
Maribel looks so tender, so small, so young that I’m disgusted by my all-consuming lust.
I need her to understand that she’s the exception for me. That I wasted by twenties and thirties on meaningless fucks while I waited for her. But I’m also not ready to commit fully – there’s a part of me that is still holding back.
It’s hypocritical of me, I suppose, to expect her to yield to me while I am holding myself off at a distance. But old habits die hard. I’m used to closing myself off. What will it cost me, to trust?
The decisive, analytic part of me that has seen me so well through mergers and billions clicks on in the aftermath of our explosive passion. I decide to give Maribel the closure of getting her most personal objects. She won’t understand now, but I will get her anything. First edition books, custom made lingerie – anything her heart desires. She is my queen and I will have her be satisfied at all times. But for now, I give her this tiny repose, before I claim her body, heart, and soul.
I know Todd is trustworthy – he has been with me over a decade – and his judgment and discretion is impeccable. Still, every instinct inside me wars against seeing her leave. When she’s gone, I breathe deep, trying to hold on to her soothing presence. Quickly, I use some of her personal details to install a tracker on her phone. I try to relax as I watch the location of the car navigate down south to her apartment. I briefly let myself trust in her.
I’m more scattered and distracted than ever, but I finish up the most essential work. I text Angelique, my PA, that I will be out tomorrow. She starts typing back with questions and I shut them down.
She understands it’s not in her best interest to bother me.
I call a ride home and the whole way through my fingers clench and my jaw stiffens. And my cock. Obviously. The dot on my phone tells me Maribel is now at my home.
Usually, when I’ve fucked women it’s been in a hotel. But I need to own Maribel, posses her in my bed. And I can’t deny how good it feels to know that she is waiting for me.
When I finally make it home I dart up the stairs before I am able to get a handle on myself. I steady myself before entering the bedroom, feeling my features assume their dispassionate, cool mask.
Inside my room, the scent of her overwhelms me. For a moment I panic when I don’t see. Then I realize she is curled up in a small ball, swallowed up my bed.
I walk towards my bed, my dick hardening almost painfully as I take in her small, innocent form. It pleases me that she has known, unconsciously or not, to wait for me there.
I strip off my clothes. My mouth quirks at her clothing choice. I’ll teach her that she will please me best by sleeping naked. But she still looks adorable swallowed up in an oversized shirt.
I swiftly take her clothes off, her limbs heavy in sleep.
Under to resist her anymore, I position myself behind her, relaxing at the rightness of this fit. I hear the even rise and fall of her breath and I suddenly feel an appreciation for this life of mine.
I want her. So I position her on her back and let my breath warm her pussy. She’s responsive, even in her sleep, and I plant delicate kisses on her thighs, her pussy lips, anywhere. She’s getting wet for me and I taste her sweetness. I lap up her wetness as my rock hard cock presses into the bed. Not yet. I need to fuck her. But I need to get my virgin ready.
She’s unfolding for me, opening up like a flower, and I push my tongue into her cunt. I start fucking her with my tongue until her hand reaches down. I feel the rightness of this, having her inexperienced pussy gush for me, while she presses my mouth more firmly into pussy.
“David,” she says sweetly and I grind my cock on the mattress some more, unable to resist the sweet sound of my name in her mouth. She should call me sir, but that would mean taking my mouth off her pussy to tell her. So I keep fucking her with my tongue. She arches up, pressing herself into me, begging for more. I swirl my tongue around her clit and inside of her until I feel her pussy contract and she convulses, coming in interconnected waves. She’s breathless and needy and warm even after this release.
I crawl towards her, pressing my cock against her entrance. “I can’t get enough of your taste,” I say, as I kiss her yielding mouth. I reach down to her pussy and rub my fingers, coating them with her ample juice. Then I shove my fingers in her mouth. She gives me shocked, bashful glance, but already she’s sucking hard.
“God, you’re a natural.” My cock is dripping with pre-cum.
I roughly reposition her so that she is facing me now, sitting on my lap. I realize now that absurdly enough, I haven’t tasted her mouth. Unacceptable. She’s sucked me off and I’ve flooded her mouth with my cum, but not this.
She’s trembling with desire, completely unselfconscious, but we haven’t even kissed. I study her face, noting a constellation of tiny freckles across her nose. I inhale her sweet scent and press my lips roughly to her willing mouth. She opens for me and my tongue darts out eagerly. She’s timid and I pull her closer to me, devouring her mouth, until her tongue starts to dance with mine. Heaven. I sigh with satisfaction and then pull her closer to me so I can easier access to her virgin pussy.
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p; I start to rub the head of my cock, which is dripping with pre-cum and her moisture, against her opening. She arches up in a wordless plea and her gaze meets mine. Our eyes lock and I watch, fascinated, as her eyes darken and her pupils dilate. She’s ready for me.
Her pussy is so eager that it’s easier than I thought pushing myself inside. Already, her muscles contract around me and an impossible moment I think I am going to cum like a horny teenager. I grit my teeth. I need to do this right. This…deflowering.
I slide my length slowly inside until I am embedded totally within her. I thrust in and out, slow and then fast, listening to her gasps and pants. She’s so responsive that I delight in adapting my strokes to her breathy moans.
“You like that, Maribel?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You need this. Always.”
“Yes, sir.” She’s starting to wail with each thrust. I like her sweet breathy moans. I also like her unabashed screams of pleasure.
I hold myself deep inside her, stilling myself completely. I need her to beg.
“Are you ready for to cum all over my cock?”
She picks up the cue. She’s at her brink. “Please, sir, I’ll do anything. Please, please, please. I need this. Cum in my virgin pussy.”
I start pounding her pussy – hard. I give no thought to her body, knowing now that using her without restraint will give her the ultimate satisfaction.
“My little pussy belongs to you, sir, Mr. Price.” Maribel tightens around me and gives a surprised gasp. I grin with satisfaction as she reaches her climax. I hold myself as still as possible, not ready to release. She’s completely spent. But I know my Maribel will want more.
So I ease back into the movement. I slap her ass and she gives me another breathy moan. I slap and thrust and slap and thrust until she’s back at her brink. She is trembling now. We are both shuddering with pleasure. I’m thrusting myself home.
I orgasm explosively and my cum gushes deep into her willing pussy. She contracts around me again, signaling yet another orgasm, and she squeezes every inch of me, milking me for every single drop of cum.
When I come to again, I press her body to me tightly. I take in her fluttering eyelashes, her panting mouth, and her trembling body. I feel a wave of pleasure at this ownership.
I’m not done with her yet.
Thirteen
Maribel
The next morning, I’m so comfortable and warm I can hardly bear to move. The memories of yesterday in full steamy detail resurface and I automatically reach for David.
His side of the bed is empty and cold. Suddenly I’m pulling the covers off and stumbling out of the bedroom. I stop to hastily put on my clothes (who knows how many people he was working for him in the house) and I’m off. I walk through hallways dwarfed by soaring ceilings.
I’m hoping to not have to climb all five stories to find him. As I weave my way through the house, I am struck dumb by the panoramic view of the Pacific. An intricate structure of glass outside in the back catches my eye. My breath catches as I realize it is an enormous greenhouse.
I step outside, my feet being tickled by wet grass, and see the shape of him in the greenhouse. He is surrounded by orchids of every imaginable shade and hue – deep blues, vibrant purples, dark reds, and dainty yellows. David holds himself with the stillness and grace of someone coming to worship at church. I circle around to the door, recognizing his intent look as the one he bestowed on when he worshipped my body yesterday.
I linger in front of the door, shivering as I feel the echo of yesterday, when I stood anxious and eager outside of his office, with no idea of what was in store for me. I step inside and it is as if I am stepping into another world. The room is warm, humid, and flooded with the scents of earth and flowers.
David doesn’t look surprised to see me. He’s pruning orchids; his care and focus on each individual bloom and bud is tantalizing.
“This is stunning,” I say, my words inadequate to capture this immersive sensory experience.
“A perk of being a billionaire,” he says casually.
I continue taking him in. Some worry quiets when I see his careful handling of these blossoms. He gestures towards me and then has me smell delicate white blossoms. I inhale the citrus and jasmine scent of it. “Brassavola nodosa,” he says brusquely. “It’s a beautiful flower known for attracting its pollinators with an irresistible scent which is strongest at night.”
He gently strokes the flower petals and I am filled with longing.
The space between us, so sweet and easy last night, feels fraught with awkwardness.
“Do you really take care of all of this?”
“Hardly. I have a gardener who comes. But I still make time for it when I can. I’ve loved orchids for years. I was inspired by the Conservatory of Flowers to make this. It’s one of my favorite places.”
My face breaks out into a smile and I nod in agreement. “I love it there too. I used to go there all the time with my mom. It was our special place.”
The silence deepens.
When I’m about to break from the strain and force small talk, I see a determined look cross his face.
“Maribel, I know how to possess your body. I can’t stop thinking of you. You’re completely intoxicating to me. And yet there is a part of me that can’t relax when I’m around you. I’m on edge. One minute I’m consumed by lust and another it’s like…I need space to come back to myself.”
I let myself words soften in my mouth. I get the sense that he is being more vulnerable than he has even been before. I need to tread carefully and handle him with gentleness.
I bravely thread my fingers around his.
“What do you need now?”
“You.”
“Hmmmm,” I say with a happy sigh.
He groans and rakes his hand through his hair, his eyes devouring every part of me.
I want him so deeply but my gut is telling me that I need to tread carefully. This passion between us burns bright, but maybe its just a shooting star, darting across a bleak sky, leaving nothing in its wake.
I gather every ounce of my self resolve and tell David firmly, “let’s go.”
He looks at me incredulously, reacting to my firm tone.
“David, I can’t pretend that I know what to do. You know I’ve never shared these experiences with anyone else before. But I know that we are being knocked off kilter by the strength of the desire. And yet we are strangers.”
“What do you propose,” he says unevenly.
“I want to see more of your life, if you let me,” I say shyly.
“No.”
I feel the rejection deep in my gut.
“Show me some of yours…first.”
It’s a start.
Fourteen
David
The morning after I complete my conquest of Maribel’s willing, virginal body, I’m wracked with desire and guilt. I gazed at her sleeping face and felt the rise and tug of that same dangerous desire. It’s like I’ve been cast out to the rough sea. And Maribel is my salvation.
My body and mind are at battle. My body is satiated as much as I can be – for now – and I feel the thrill and surety of my possession of her. But my mind still holds her at length.
When she proposes we go on a date by instinct is to laugh in her face. But she is earnest and so vulnerable in the way she asks that I feel my respect for her grow. And I can’t bear to be cruel to her when she looks so brave in my greenhouse, surrounding by orchids which only accentuate her beauty.
I’m not ready to show her my world. So she shows me hers.
We walk hand and hand to the nearby Land’s End, all alone on this wild and desolate trail. The ruins of the Sutro Baths and the power and rage of the ocean reverberate through me. I hardly notice when Maribel drags me deeper still, until we overlook the base of the Golden Gate Bridge and a labyrinth made of rocks.
Her hair streams in the wind and she is almost hunched over by the wind. I gather her t
owards me without thought. I’ve never been one for this kind of sappy PDA, but the urge to protect her overrides my carefully contained impulses. I feel her body start to soften and I am content to stay here.
As we walk back, she says conversationally, “do you know that people can’t be buried in San Francisco?”
“What?”
“It’s the most San Francisco thing ever. Even back in the early 1900s the land was too valuable. So not only did they stop most burials in the city, but they even kicked out the dead and moved them to Colma.”
“That’s one of the most San Francisco things I’ve ever heard.”
She stops and closes her eyes tightly. “I scattered my mom’s ashes here in Land’s End.”
I know this sharing is a gift. I want to recoil, to make a joke, or to change the subject. I can’t trust myself to respond correctly, so I force myself to stay silent.
“My mom was everything to me. I just was thinking that I haven’t up here for so long. But I knew this was the right place for her to rest. She always loved it here.”
“What was she like?” There. It’s a neutral question. I think.
“She was so beautiful. She was a teacher, actually. But then she got sick. I was only 19 when I lost her.”
A wave of sorrow sweeps through me.
“What’s your family like?” Maribel asks me earnestly. She is so innocent and curious I can’t refuse her.
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know. You are so mysterious. There really isn’t much about you that’s public knowledge, is there. I read your cover article in Forbes but it mostly focuses on the company, not you.”
“A superfan?”
“We all got copies at work,” she says a bit testily. But she’s coloring now and I chuckle.
“What did your team speculate about me?”
She looks at me incredulously. “I don’t want to rat anyone out.”